


If Brokenness Is A Work of Art I Must Be a Poster Child Prodigy

by cheers__dear



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Campaign 2 spoilers, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm a soft Clayleb stan and needed more of them so I had to write it, Kisses, M/M, Mostly just bad ones about himself, Sad Boy Caleb, clayleb - Freeform, he just has a lot of feelings, tags updated as i go, they'll show up later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheers__dear/pseuds/cheers__dear
Summary: A series of drabbles inspired by each song from the Sleeping At Last album Atlas: Space. There's not a major plot between them and no real timeline. Told from Caleb's perspective as he journeys with the Nein. Mostly Caleb, morphing into Clayleb later on. The Nein are in the background.[Campaign 2 Spoilers - the drabbles will bounce around in the timeline, enter at your own risk if you're not caught up.]
Relationships: Caduceus Clay & Caleb Widogast, Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26





	1. Infinity Times Infinity (Sun)

**Author's Note:**

> "I guess space and time takes violent things, angry things and makes them kind."

Opening the lead box to peer inside at the beacon, Caleb feels something is shifting inside of him forever. 

He can’t quite tell yet, he’s close, and someday he might know what it means fully, but for now he knows they’ve stumbled into something big. Bigger than any of them know, even himself. 

Staring down into the box he swears he can see into infinity. The logical, always rational, always calculating portion of his brain knows he’s still in the room. He can still feel Jester’s hand in his, can sense Nott standing nearby, but he knows he couldn’t take his eyes off of this...this thing...even if he wanted to. 

As he focuses on the pulsing glow of the dodecahedron, it starts to become more and more clear. The shapes, shifting and blurring at the edges, coming into focus for just a moment and then vanishing into the periphery again. He wants to turn his head to follow where they go but feels like he’s glued in place, staring down into somehow both everything and nothing at all. 

His heart races and he knows this is dangerous. He knows he should pull back, he knows he’s going further than he should but the reckless side of his brain, the one that knows he’s unredeemable convinces him nothing worse can happen than what’s already happened. He pushes further in with his mind, and then he sees it. 

A tiny shimmering gold thread. He doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t know why he’s being shown this one seemingly insignificant strand. It moves across his vision slowly without intent leaving a trail of golden glow behind it. He watches for a second, an hour, he isn’t sure, as the thread travels through the emptiness glowing brighter and brighter gold until it’s almost painful to keep looking. Just as he’s about to tear his eyes away he watches as the glow fades slightly and the golden thread changes directions in an instant. He tries to follow it but his eyes are drawn to the point where it changed direction, watching as several other threads, much duller in color almost shadow in comparison, bounce away from the point fading back into nothingness as they go. 

The realization slams into him as his vision changes focus to see hundreds, millions probably, of threads moving through the infinite darkness in front of him. He sees it now. Choices. Possibilities. Fate. 

“Do you know if it’s achievable?” He doesn’t know why he asks. He isn’t sure if he says it out loud or just in his brain but he waits for any kind of response. It doesn’t come. He watches longer, the threads tangling, releasing, moving this way and that changing directions and leaving behind traces of what could have been. He doesn’t need an answer, he knows.

“Father and Mother, I hope I do not let you down.” 

He watches as a grey, pulsing bit of energy moves toward his hand. Watches as if outside of himself as that hand reaches out, grabs it and pulls it into his chest. He feels the warmth spread through his torso and to his limbs, frozen in place as his vision clears and he is back in the room in the tavern. Jester is still holding his hand. 

He feels a bead of sweat slip down his neck from his hairline but he is frozen in place. He can hear Jester and Nott talking now, excitedly. They’re asking him questions wanting to make sure he’s okay. 

But how can he tell them? How could he ever explain that he is both terrified to his core and the most okay he’s been in very very long time. That hope has blossomed in his chest where the mote of energy absorbed into his skin. A hope he does not deserve but that is still here. He could never put to words how this tiny fragment of possibility, this gift from the infinite has solidified what he had barely hoped to be true. That after years of endless research he knows now, with more clarity than ever, what he wants might be possible. 

That given enough time, enough research, enough study and dedication and focus along with this strange gift, a stolen beacon, he might be able to undo his past. He knows in an instant nothing will be the same. 

He can’t tell if going back will change anything, if even undoing it would allow him to forgive himself. He doesn’t know how much time would be needed to soothe the most jagged parts of him, the edges that stab into his core at every single moment threatening to tear him apart and leave him bleeding out, but with an infinity of choices and possibilities in front of him he thinks he might have a chance. 

And that is the most hope Caleb Widogast has dared to feel in years.


	2. God Knows I Am Dissonance Waiting to be Swiftly Pulled Into Tune (Mercury)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I know the further I go  
> The harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed  
> And somehow I've fallen in love  
> With this middle ground at the cost of my soul"

The cold air stings his lungs as he opens he window of the small room. The flame of the candle at the desk flickers in the sudden breeze throwing shadows on the walls. Caleb looks at Nott where she’s asleep in the bed, curled in a tiny ball at the foot of the mattress out of habit despite having the entire bed to stretch in. 

He is exhausted, having spent the hours after sundown studying and meticulously copying spells into the spell book still laying open on the desk while the ink dries. He should sleep, having only a few hours left until dawn but as exhausted as he feels he knows sleep won’t come tonight. He raises his arms over his head, and feels his spine crack in a few points before he sits back down in the hard chair at the desk. 

He stares into the flame, watching it dance, watching it flicker back and forth along the wick. He knows what he’s doing, and he welcomes it. The flood of memories that threaten to overwhelm him. He deserves this punishment, the pain that comes along with it. He can go days, even weeks sometimes, without thinking about it but he’ll never truly be able to forget. The more he tries the more it continues to haunt him, to force him to remember. The details stay in crystal clarity in his mind, sharpening their focus as if to hurt worse as they remind him what he is, what he’s done. At his core he knows he’s grown comfortable with anguish, with this pain. This is what he has earned.

He remembers the first time he created flame with his hands. It had been celebrated. He was young, younger than he should have been to be learning what he was, but he was eager and bright and hungry for more. He remembers the fear he felt as the flames crackled in his palm but the fear was nothing compared to the thrill of it. The thrill is what drove him further into his studies, further into the books and the practice of the arcane. He has never felt more alive than he had in those moments. Growing and changing, yearning so desperately for whatever came next. His heart clenches as he thinks briefly of Astrid, he can still see her smile, hear her laugh, feel the curve of her body pressed tight against his. 

Instantly, the thrill turns to repulsion as his brain circles back to that night. The night he’d give anything to forget. Walking through the empty silent town past rows and rows of houses up to the one he knows so well. He can picture every detail of the interior, the bedrooms, the kitchen, he can practically smell the food they had for dinner. He can feel it as if it happened yesterday, the horror and the sickness in his gut as the flames he so willingly created lick up the outside of the wooden house. He watches, his brain slowing down the time of this particular memory as the flames hungrily engulf the house. He can still hear their screams. He didn’t know how quickly the flames would consume an entire house, he doesn’t know how long he watched that night before turning away to spill the contents of his stomach into the grass at his feet. 

And then there is nothing. A welcome break from the static in his brain, threatening every day to overtake him again. There are years and years of nothing. A ghost going through the motions. He remembers the bed and the white rooms he was confined to, but nothing beyond it until the singular moment of clarity and with it the utter repulsion that came with it. The lie he’d been fed, the things he’d done in the name of the Empire. The things he’d wanted to do. The very thing keeping him on the run for so long. He catches back up to himself now, sitting alone in the room. The candle has burned out but it doesn’t matter as the first bits of sunlight creep above the horizon turning the sky a dazzling silver grey with approaching storm clouds. 

His eyes flick to the mirror on the other side of the room and for an instant he sees Bren and Caleb at the same time. Where once there were bright eyes he finds only deep bruise colored circles and heavy lids. Where once there was confidence he now finds slumped thin shoulders and scarred arms both from battles and from Trent. Where once there had been a smile he sees now the ridge between furrowed brows growing deeper and deeper as the worry he feels inside forms his features. He runs a calloused hand over his face and down across the stubble lining his cheeks and chin. For a brief second both Bren and Caleb disappear from the mirror and in their place stands only the monster he knows as himself, a horrible beast that makes his stomach churn. 

He turns his back on the mirror but he can still see the creature even as his eyes close. He thinks again to the beacon, to what he wants and needs. He doesn’t deserve hope, not after all of this. It feels sinful to hope but he does anyway, wondering if he could truly accomplish what he wants with it, to remake himself into someone new. Neither Bren nor Caleb. He shakes his head as he hears Nott begin to wake.

“Up already?” She greets, stretching out from her curled position. 

“Ja.” He forces a tired smile and hopes she doesn’t notice. “Breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, here is part two of this series. Thanks to anyone who took the time to read/leave a comment or some love. It means more than you know. Feel free to find me on twitter if you ever want to talk about critical role or anything else. I love making friends <3


	3. I Thought I’d Never Find You, When Suddenly I Saw You (Venus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Like a telescope,  
> I will pull you so close  
> 'Til no space lies in between.  
> And suddenly I see you."

“Mister Caleb, do you believe in fate?” 

The question comes from seemingly nowhere. Caleb has grown used to this with Caduceus. The way his thoughts swirl together and a simple conversation about a necklace can turn into something philosophical. 

He feels the corners of his mouth twitch up, feeling the laugh of irony choked to silence in his throat. “I would like to think not, but I don’t know.” 

“There are times I think about the cruelties of the world, the things that have been put upon me and my family and I would hate for that to be a plan. And there are times when, like today, I’m very grateful for being in the right place at the right time to make sure that the right people are becoming strong in the ways they need to be. And I don’t think that excuses the pain, I don’t think that you have to...I don’t know. I don’t think you have to not care about it or fight it with everything you’ve got but. I think the world is shaping you into something important and I want to make sure you get to wherever you need to be.” 

Caleb exhales a heavy breath, eyes trained on the ground at Caduceus’ feet. He can feel the the heat rising in his cheeks. “I’m not...” He shakes his head as his voice waivers and gives out. 

Caduceus doesn’t speak, doesn’t urge him to finish. He’s patient and willing to wait for the man in front of him to work through whatever it is he needs to say. 

“I’m not important.” He risks a glance up at Caduceus, a pained expression pulling his brows together. He watches as Caduceus takes a step closer to him. He watches as a grey hand reaches up, feels the softness of his palm as it caress his cheek, thumb easily moving to smooth over one brow. Caleb looks away again but doesn’t pull back. He stays perfectly still as Caduceus continues to stroke the same pattern up over the bridge of his nose and down the arch of one eyebrow again and again. 

“I don’t think that’s true at all.” The sincerity in Caduceus’ warm voice makes Caleb tremble slightly. He allows himself to look back up at the firbolg, eyes locking with his. They stand frozen and Caduceus watches as Caleb’s eyes take in his face, follow the high cheekbones and wide flat nose. He watches as Caleb’s eyes trace across his thin lips and then up to the mess of pink curls. 

There is a split second of tension between them, solid and tangible and they both feel it when it shatters. Caleb’s quick movement surprises them both as he pulls at the front of Caduceus’ shirt, bringing his face down to his level. He presses their foreheads together and doesn’t look away as their eyes meet. 

“Is this okay?” The words are soft and Caduceus can feel the breath across his skin. 

“I think so, yeah.”

And then Caleb kisses him. It’s soft, testing, a barely there press of lips to lips. Caduceus’ hand stays where it’s been against his cheek the other moving to Caleb’s hair. 

“I’ve wanted that for some time.” Caduceus says plainly. 

“Ja.” Caleb breathes out his response, looking into his eyes again for a long moment before letting his lids close and kissing him again. It’s awkward until they fall into a gentle rhythm. The hand against Caleb’s cheek moves to his back and he feels a strong arm bringing him closer to Caduceus’ chest, closing off any space between them. 

Caleb relaxes against him and feels Caduceus smile against his lips as the hand continues to stroke through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp every so often with blunt fingernails. His head spins as the black behind his eyes bursts with color, swirling flurries of light. His mind conjures up drawings of stars and constellations he’s seen in books. 

He pulls back gently and is met with no resistance as Caduceus lets go of him. He takes a shaky step back not able to look at him yet. Caduceus laughs softly, the hand in his hair sliding to his chin to push it up. “Don’t get shy on me now.” 

Caleb feels the smile before he can stop it and shakes his head quickly to clear the fog. 

“That was alright?” Caduceus asks and Caleb feels like he’s been knocked backwards with the tenderness and care in is voice. 

“It has been quite a while for me. Since I have done...anything like this.” Caleb confesses. “I think I’d almost forgotten.” 

“I’m glad it was you first, Mister Caleb.” 

“That was your..?” Caleb’s eyebrows arch up in question and surprise. 

“Not many people at home to practice with.” Caduceus shrugs, pulling Caleb back into him, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Caleb can feel the contented hum rumble through his chest. “I’m glad it was you.” He says again. 

Caleb feels raw and exposed, he feels like he’s stolen something he hasn’t earned. He knows he doesn’t deserve this prize, he shouldn’t have anything in his life this sweet. But for a moment it is nice to pretend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 is here! As always, feedback is lovely and I'm always interested in making new friends so find me on twitter to chat! Thanks for reading!


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